I'm Writing to Tell You
by Mikauzoran
Summary: He had intended to leave "Amuro Toru" behind, to disappear without a trace as he set off on his next mission. But he couldn't quite leave Azusa, and she refused to be shut out.


Mikau: Hey there everybody! Thank you for taking a look at this! I'm really excited to be writing AmuAzu again, even if it is just for a one-shot. My brother texted me on Friday, asking if I wanted to do a prompt challenge with him, so he's been sending me prompts, and then we both write stories. This is the second one, and the prompt is "unrequited love poem". Just like how the weather prompt didn't really relate directly with the Kaito and Sera fic I wrote (To Pass the Time), this one doesn't exactly have much to do with the "unrequited" or "poem" parts of the prompt, but…I'll shut up now and let you guys read. I hope you like it! Oh. By the way, **AMURO SPOILERS. But really no more so than you get reading the character tag on the site for Amuro.** Anyway.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, I'd give Amuro and Azusa more screen time together. They're just so gosh darn cute.

…

I'm Writing to Tell You

"I'm writing this to tell you I'm not who you think I am," Amuro Toru furtively scribbled on a napkin during the usual ten o'clock lull at the Café. His eyes kept flickering up every few seconds, checking Azusa-san's position, making sure he'd have enough time to stuff the note in his pocket without her noticing, should she head back towards the counter.

For now, she was suitably distracted, talking with fellow waitress and friend Mizutani Misa. More like fending Misa off as the smaller girl urged once more for Azusa to join them on that evening's group date…loud enough for Amuro to hear clear across the room.

Misa snuck an all too smug glance at Amuro to see how the conversation was sitting with him.

He looked back down at the napkin, continuing his writing unaffected. Because he wasn't jealous. At least…he wasn't going to let Misa make him tip his hand. He knew Azusa wouldn't go no matter how many times Misa begged, so there was no point in him getting worked up about possible unknowns moving in on her like a pack of hounds on an unsuspecting rabbit. In the event that she did go, he'd simply tail the party discretely. And leave the gun at home. Or maybe just locked up in the trunk of his car. Just in case something came up and he needed it, but otherwise secure enough that he wouldn't be tempted to use it inappropriately, should he lose his temper.

No. Amuro was less worried about potential group dates than he was about that cop that came and sat in booth number three every day, ordered a cup of coffee, black, and asked Azusa what was in the news? What pastries did they have fresh today? Which one would she suggest? Say, that was a cute set of earrings she had on. Were they a gift from her boyfriend? Oh? She didn't have a boyfriend? Why not? She was so smart and pretty and nice…

Amuro had his eye on the cop in booth number three…and the one in seven that stopped by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for lunch. Then there was the forty year-old salaryman who came every Saturday morning without fail to ogle Azusa-san's legs and bottom as she walked away from his table, and that old letch at table two who came Tuesday/Thursdays at ten thirty when Poirot was at its emptiest before the noon rush.

Amuro shook his head. Because he was a hopeless dope. Azusa-san deserved a nice cop in her life, and it wasn't like Amuro fit that bill. It was a pointless waste of time for him to follow her around like a guard dog, snarling at every male within a twelve-foot radius. She wasn't his. He couldn't be hers.

"What's that? It sounds like part of a spy novel," a soft voice broke into his thoughts.

Amuro jumped, his instincts yelling for him to grab his gun. Thank God and years of training that he'd learned to assess the situation first and _then_ shoot. He was able to pull himself back from the edge of panic and take in Azusa-san standing on the other side of the counter in front of him, leaning over to read his napkin upside-down.

"Are you a writer, Amuro-san?" she inquired with that bright, innocent smile that made his heart ache with longing.

But at the moment, his heart was racing for another reason entirely. Blood pumped in his ears as he forced his mask back in place, made himself smile sheepishly and chuckle, "Just an amateur, really. Please, forget all about that. It's just something I'm playing around with right now—not worth reading."

"Oh, I don't know." She tilted her head, long, chestnut hair falling gracefully to the side. "I'd be interested in reading it if you ever get it done." Her smile seemed to falter here. "I…kind of want to know if she gets the note in time to stop him from going away. If not, then…if they ever meet again."

Amuro looked down at what he had absentmindedly scratched out on the napkin while his thoughts were wandering this way and that about his perceived rivals for Azusa's affections.

He almost blushed in horror as he read:

"I can't tell you anything—where I'm going or what I'll be doing next now that my job here is done—and we'll probably never meet again, but I just wanted to thank you for making a difference in my life while we knew each other. You brought light into my world by cheerfully greeting me and being that smiling face I looked forward to seeing every day. So even though I can't do it properly, I wanted to say goodbye and thank you…and also that somehow over the past year I've"

Thankfully he had stopped before things got too out of hand, before he had finished that damning sentence.

He smiled ruefully, crumpling the napkin and sticking it in his pocket. "I probably won't finish it, but thank you anyway, Azusa-san." Gluing down the edges of his figurative mask, he stepped away from the counter and made some excuse about checking on a batch of rolls that didn't actually exist.

She stared after his retreating back for a long moment, thoughts racing as she tried to figure out what she was going to do.

Unfortunately, there wasn't much time to stop and think things through clearly. Even though the Café was nearly empty, she still had to prepare for the rush that would be starting up in under an hour. True, refilling the sweetener packet holders and making sure there were enough clean dishes and utensils didn't take a lot of brain power, but…

Azusa fumbled one of the coffee mugs she had been drying.

Misa looked up from the cupcakes she was decorating to quirk an eyebrow at Azusa. "Careful, Azu-chan," she gently chided. "Keep your mind on your work, not your secret boyfriend, space cadet."

With a cinnabar flush of embarrassment, Azusa turned back to the task at hand, focusing all of her mental energy on drying the dishes and trying to push out thoughts of her handsome coworker, bustling about not nine feet away.

"Wait. _Is_ there a secret boyfriend?" Misa demanded when Azusa failed to protest.

Much to Azusa's dismay, the day passed in a blur, and it was two o'clock before she knew it. The lunch crowd was dwindling down, and Amuro's shift had come to an end.

He waved over his shoulder and called out that he would see everyone later as he headed to the back to hang up his apron and gather his belongings.

A trill of pain shot from Azusa's heart down to her stomach, and her breath caught in her throat.

He was leaving! If she didn't catch him now, there was no telling if she'd ever get the opportunity.

The words "we'll probably never meet again" echoed in her ears, and her body went cold.

"Azu-chan, you feeling okay?" Misa's voice sounded so far away.

Azusa darted off after Amuro like a rabbit fleeing the hunt, tossing a breathless, "I'm taking a quick break," back over her shoulder as an afterthought.

She was going so fast, she nearly tripped as she flew into the back room. Luckily, she caught herself on the doorjamb, avoiding the utter humiliation of landing flat on her face. Though, she was sure she still looked a mess—flushed face, heaving chest, disheveled hair from the close call.

Amuro thought her positively angelic.

"Azusa-san? What's the matter?" He quickly scanned her for injury.

"Y-You're leaving," she gasped, flipping her hair back into place and straightening up.

He put on a gentle, amused smile. "Of course. I _have_ been here since before dawn, after all."

Catching her breath, Azusa pursed her lips, brow furrowing. "No. I meant the note. You said you were leaving, and it sounded like you were going far away."

He forced himself to chuckle. He wanted to go over and smooth her hair, touch her cheek. "That was just—"

"—No!" she cut him off harshly, balling her hands tightly into fists and biting her lip. "Please," she continued softly, plaintively. "I don't claim to be smart, but I'm not stupid either."

"Azusa-san," he called gently, as if to a petulant child.

"No," she repeated in a whisper, the beginnings of tears starting to pool. "I'm not completely unobservant. I've been watching, and I've noticed things about you. I already knew you weren't just a serial part-timer working as a barista for the moment," she asserted, surprising him.

She tentatively inched closer as she continued, "I don't know if you're a cop or part of some yakuza clan or a Russian spy, and I don't need to know, but…can't you at least tell me how long I have?" she begged, stopping a few feet in front of him.

Her visible agony shook him. The tears and the hurt in her eyes made his heart clench. But he said nothing. He had to disappear completely, leave her behind, let her become a rare happy memory, not allow her to get involved.

"Is it a matter of weeks?" she tried, but he didn't respond. "Or-or days?"

He glanced away, afraid he would crack if he kept looking. That sorrowful gaze of hers was more effective at prying secrets from his lips than any other form of torture he'd undergone.

"…H-hours?" She swallowed hard.

He was silent, face carefully blank as his fingers itched to reach out and stroke her hair.

Realizing how ridiculous she must appear to him, how needy and whiney with her pleas and her blubbering, Azusa dropped her head in shame. "I'm sorry. I know I have no right to ask. It's none of my business, and you can't tell me, but… I just…I don't want you to… And it hurts me that…"

A bunch of half-formed thoughts whirled through her mind: she wanted to ask him to stay, even though she knew it was stupid. She wanted him to tell her where he was going and promise to still see her sometimes. She wanted him to call her every now and then. She wanted him to just say something already—something nice and reassuring that would make her feel like less of an idiot for going to pieces over someone who probably only saw her as a friendly coworker.

"I don't want to be shut out," she breathed almost inaudibly, the tears starting to trickle down her cheeks.

That was the tipping point that finally broke his resolve. He'd held back every desire, every urge over the past year because he'd known it was better that way—for The Mission, for her—but now, with her quietly sobbing right in front of him, her delicate shoulders trembling, jerking with every hiccup and sniffle…he just couldn't walk away and pretend he didn't care.

He had never cared so much…not even for Akemi.

"Shh. Azusa," he whispered and finally allowed himself to touch her. He cautiously stretched out his hand and caressed her cheek, tilting her chin, forcing her to look at him and see the anguish in his own eyes.

She gazed at him in speechless shock as he stroked her face and hair soothingly. Her lips parted slightly, and her eyes widened.

He smiled affectionately, wiping the tears away with his thumb.

"A-Amuro…-san?" She couldn't process what was happening.

"Don't cry over me," he entreated. "I'm not worth it."

Her cheeks burned like firebrands as she looked away in embarrassment. "I wasn't—" She broke away, waving her hands in protest. "I didn't—"

He caught her hands in both of his own, pulling her back to him. "Hokkaidou."

She blinked, trying to put together the shreds of her thoughts and comprehend what was going on. "Ho-Hokkaidou?"

He nodded, squeezing her hands. "My next mission is in Sapporo. I'm flying out tomorrow first thing."

Her eyelids fluttered, and her heart leapt. She couldn't get out the words, "Why are you telling me? You won't get in trouble, will you? It won't endanger your mission, will it?" before he spoke again.

"And I want to give you my phone number." He couldn't believe how reckless he was being, and not just with his own life but with hers. _Hers_. Because he'd lost control of himself, finally, selfishly giving in to his emotions.

Azusa cocked her head to the side. "But I already have your contact information." From when she'd changed shifts with him several months ago.

He shook his head and smiled wryly. "You have _Amuro Toru's_ number," he corrected. "Which won't do you much good as he won't exist anymore in twelve hours. I want to give you _my_ personal number." He pulled out a phone she had never seen before, setting it to transfer data.

She fumbled in her pocket for her own mobile, getting it ready.

Amuro touched his phone's sensor to hers, and the number, email address, and contact name all appeared on her screen.

She gulped as she studied the kanji, testing the words out in her mind because she was too scared to say them out aloud. What if someone was listening? She didn't want to blow his cover. Still, she looked up at him and then back down at the screen, mouthing the words.

He could barely contain a giddy grin as he watched her lips move seductively around the syllables. God, he wanted her to say it. But more than anything he feared it. What had he done?! This was complete folly, and he would be paying for it one way or another someday.

 _"Just not with her._ Please _. Please, not with her,_ " he silently begged in case someone really was listening.

"This is your real name?" Her voice broke him out of his haze of bliss and panic.

"It's the most real of all the names I've ever had," he offered with a shrug. "The people who know the real me know that name," he rephrased, hoping he was making sense.

She nodded and smiled. "Thank you so much for this." She indicated the phone and then tucked it carefully back into her pocket.

"I have something else for you too," he confessed, sheepishly pulling the crumpled napkin from his pocket and smoothing the wrinkles out up against his locker.

"Don't look." He took out a pen, completing the note before folding it up and pressing it into her hand, holding it there.

He looked her straight in the eye and smiled gently. "I have to go, and it might be a while before we see each other again, but I won't disappear. You have my number if anything happens. Just give me a text, and I'll text or call back as soon as I can. I won't shut you out, Azusa," he promised. "So…open that note and read it later, after I'm gone, okay?"

He slowly withdrew his hand from hers, stepping back to gather his things.

"So this isn't goodbye?" she asked hesitantly, needing to be sure.

"No," he verified, turning to fish his belongings out of his nearly-empty locker. "This isn't goodbye."

"Good," she sighed, giggling in relief. She felt so much lighter, so much better, as it got easier to breathe…even though she was dizzy and it seemed as if her legs would give out on her at any minute.

Azusa smiled goofily as a feeling of peace settled within her. She'd been so anxious all day.

Unconsciously, her eyes fell upon his back, and she watched the strong muscles moving through his clingy shirt. She kind of wanted to put her hand between his shoulder blades and feel the rippling against her skin.

Blushing, she tore her eyes away. She knew she was being absolutely silly, indulging in ridiculous thoughts like that. He had just given her his phone number; what was so special about that? …Only…it was, wasn't it? …Why had he done that? And told her his _real_ name on top of it. But why? Why _her_?

Suddenly the napkin in her hand, his note, felt heavy as she became keenly aware of it. She'd been concentrating so hard on the first part about his secret identity and him leaving and them never seeing each other again, but…there had been more to it than that, hadn't there? The rest after never meeting again had barely registered, but there _had_ been more.

Azusa bit her lip, tentatively checking to make sure Amuro still had his back turned so he wouldn't see. She held her breath, moving slowly, praying that the napkin wouldn't crinkle and draw his attention.

Blood pounded in her ears as she peeked down at his strong, sharp strokes and read: "but I just wanted to thank you for making a difference in my life while we knew each other. You brought light into my world by cheerfully greeting me and being that smiling face I looked forward to seeing every day. So even though I can't do it properly, I wanted to say goodbye and thank you…and also that somehow over the past year I've fallen deeply in love with you, Azusa. I wish you all the happiness in the world and leave my heart to your keeping. – Furuya Rei"

She gasped, nearly dropping the letter. She had to read the characters four times before she was sure she truly understood them, but…

"What's the matter?" Amuro rounded in an instant, scanning the perimeter for danger. He only found her with the open note in her hand. His heart sank. "Y-You weren't supposed to read that until I was gone." His mind spun, trying to concoct some way to take it back. He hadn't actually wanted to confess in person. That was the whole point behind the note in the first place. He wasn't prepared. What if she rejected him?! Her getting upset over his leaving without warning might not necessitate actual feelings for him. He was pretty sure she at least liked him what with her tears, her sorrow, but there was always a chance that he was wrong, and the _last_ thing he had wanted was to part with things awkward between them.

But the delirious grin on her face did much to calm his fears before his mind whirled too far out of control.

Tears of joy welled in her eyes as she stepped forward, breathing, "Amu—Furuya-san" like an angel's feather as she brushed her lips against his.

"Rei," he gently insisted when they parted for the briefest of moments.

"Rei," she whispered into his lips.

The

End

…

Mikau: Aren't they adorkable? They make me happy. I hope this made you happy too. Aaaand I went over the word limit again. ^.^; My brother had said one thousand words, but this one is more like three thousand. Whoops. The last one was five thousand. My brother said that if this were featherweight boxing, this time I'd thrown Little Mac in the ring with Disco Kid which was better than King Hippo last time. If the preceding remark doesn't make sense, please reference the endnote of To Pass the Time…or just scratch your head and move on with your life. Either way, thank you so much for reading. I'm excited to hear your thoughts! I hope you liked it.


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